"I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time."
~ Jack London

Bookworm Challenge 2016

1.) "Pleasures of the Damned" by Charles Bukowski
2.) "Batman and Psychology" by Travis Langley
3.) "Glory O'Brien's History of the Future" by A.S. King
4.) "The Best of Batman: 50th Anniversary in Film and Television"
5.) "Tough Sh*t: Life Advice From a Fat, Lazy Slob Who Did Good" by Kevin Smith
6.) "Lady Midnight" by Cassandra Clare
7.) "The Killing Joke" Alan Moore
8.) "The Merciless II" by Danielle Vega
9.) All Star Batman #1, #2, #3
10.) "Batman: Year One" Frank Miller
11.) "Rebirth: Batman" & "DC Universe Rebirth: Batman"

If you haven’t listened to Amanda Palmer’s “Another Year”, go do it immediately. This song is on to Top 5 list of the soundtrack of my life, I swear.

Now, I have done many, many things in my life. I’ve worked in a haunted house, and a Halloween costume/supply store. I’ve left the country. Twice. Swam with dolphins. Also twice. I attended a writing conference in New York with Best Selling authors and agents and other passionate writer people like myself, and even read part of a manuscript out loud to two agents (both of which were interested in reading more) – before I started my senior year of High School. I’ve been to Orlando four times. I’ve been to Boston and Salem. I’ve been to Chicago, New Orleans, and Nashville for cons. I’ve been to James Marsters birthday party. Sean Patrick Flanery has called my boyfriend and made me blush, and just been an all around awesome dude to me. David Della Rocco kissed my cheek. I’ve met amazing actors, artists, comedians, authors, etc. I’ve met Stan Lee. Multiple times. I met Robert Englund and cried. I’ve been to Batman Live!, Wicked, Phantom of the Opera, and a variety of other plays and shows. I’ve had VIP passes and been allowed into areas others have dreamed of. I’ve shot fashion shows, had photos and articles published, and occasionally feel like maybe I’m going in the right direction.

And so, so much more. So many people and places I can’t even list them all.

But, I somehow still want more. I have worked myself to death to feel like I’m somewhere, or doing something, and not wasting my life behind a desk at a day job.

It feels like I have been stuck in a state of Almost Something. I have almost been published. Almost graduated with my degree as an Art major. Almost stepped up to the next level in photography. Almost almost almost. But I don’t won’t to fall short anymore. I want to move from Almost Something into Definitely Something.

So, next year, I will try to do more. I will try to top everything I’ve already done, just because I have the drive to do it. I don’t want to live an average life. It will drive me insane. I want to feel like I’ve accomplished things and lived a life I was proud of by the time I’m dead.

I’m working on a list right now of things to do in 2015. Because while 2014 had some very good things, it also had some horrible things. And I want more good days than bad. I’ll post a finished list closer to New Years Eve, but there are some points I will definitely touch on:

I will do something writing related, whether it’s a published novel, or another article. Even a baby step forward is better than a stand still.

I will work on my photography more. Because I miss it. Because I need it. I will do shoots and get my work out there.

I will do something more with my art. It’s improving, though not quite where it was art. I would love to start selling prints and pieces to people.

Travel. Experiences. Health.

There is no point in wasting time, when there are adventures out there waiting for me. I just need to seize the chances I’m presented with.

People tell me that I’m disconnected from everyone around me. My own boyfriend occasionally tells me that even if we’re in the same room, it feels as though I’m a million miles away. That’s just how I am, I tell them. I’m in my own head a lot. I’m a writer. It happens.

It’s harder to tell them that, especially as of late, I’m usually wishing I was anywhere but where I am. The past few years, I’ve become a recluse that hides away from the regular world. Especially after the start of the Mysterious Sickness of Doom, aka Sjogren’s, started to take control of my life. Between that, and work, and trying to be realistic, a lot of my fire had died out. I’ve become bitter and jealous of the life I was living not that long ago.

Just a few years ago, I was trying to get my first novel published. I had been to New York and met with literary agents, I even nearly had one become my agent. I rubbed elbows with other writers at the Algonquin, went to book signings and releases and had so many advanced signed copies of books from the author friends I had made, that I started doing my own reviews along with other bloggers, leading me to some extra writing gigs. I’d had breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with authors, both New York Times Bestseller’s and Indie writers. All before I turned 18 and started my senior year of High School. I was voted Most Likely to Write a Novel, president of Book Club, and felt like an unstoppable force.

Except that I wasn’t as unstoppable as I had believed, and by the time I was entering my third semester of college, I started to burn out on everything. I wanted to keep my grades up, but I also needed a job, and thought I could magically balance the two out with writing. I did manage it for a little while, until work became my main focus and even school started slipping. Before I knew it, BAM! I was sick, and the rest of my life began to crumble around me. I wasn’t slowing down or losing speed, I had come to a halt altogether.

Just after I recovered enough to return to work, I was already burning out all over again. To cheer me up, my mom and I went to Disney World and Universal Orlando in May 2012, and even though it wiped my energy out, it revived some of my spirit. For a little while, I was starting to get myself back. Yet, just as quickly, it started to fade, because work would eat away at my happiness and I couldn’t find the time or energy or clarity for writing. So I started to do the only thing I knew how to do: I found something useful to do with the money I was making and started planning more things to do.

When I think about it, even though I don’t know the exact moment it happened, that decision was the catalyst. I started out small in December 2012 by going to see Batman Live! and Wicked at the Fox Theatre, both of which stirred up something inside of me that I’d felt after my Orlando trip. I was desperate to hold onto this feeling, and quickly planned a surprise trip to see Wicked again for my best friend and myself.

It didn’t take long for me to be stir crazy all over again, even with my rheumatology appointments keeping me a regular at a few hospitals. So, I went to my first ComicCon in March and met some personal heroes, like Stan Lee, James Marsters, and Tom Felton, to name a few. Again, I was pumped up afterwards, but soon after the excitement started to fade and I was back to the same routine: Work, Sickness. Repeat. I needed something else to distract myself, and so I schemed until I came up with a game plan to go on a real trip. June came, and I returned to Disney and Universal, hoping to reclaim some of that magic that I had the previous year. Packing my bags, heading to the airport, knowing I had all of this excitement ahead – it all revived me. By my last day in Florida, though, I felt like crying. I wasn’t ready to come home. The thought of returning to my previous schedule made me nauseated.

Again, I began to scheme a way out.

Now, by this point, other people were starting to notice I was “blowing” a lot of money. I say “blowing” in quotation marks because I don’t agree with what they’re saying, but they said it all the same. As soon as family, friends, and coworkers learned of my plans to fly to Chicago the weekend before my birthday, I started hearing their concerns:

“Well, Angel, don’t you think you should be saving your energy and money?”

Or, “I don’t understand why you need to run off so much when you never have time for anyone around you.”

I packed my bags, left for Chicago, and ignored everyone else. I had too much to do in such a short period of time; I didn’t care what anyone else said. So I enjoyed a few days of a con, met some more awesome people, went to my first concert, and even went to James Marsters birthday party. For a few days, I was right back at the top of the world. I had a break from being Angel Young, miserable office monkey and Sjogrens slave. I needed that break. Coming back to reality was a slap in the face and I didn’t take it very well at all.

This explains why, before we even boarded the plane to come home, I was plotting one final escape for 2013. I needed one more fix to get me through until the new year of new adventures. Because this is what I am: I am The Wanderer.

Now, I need to slow Story Time down a bit for you, because that final Big Adventure of 2013 needs to be it’s own post. Because seriously, THIS happened:

….But that story is for another day.

The point is, ladies and gents, that I am dealing with a lot of stress, and a lot of self-reflection. I am coming to a clear realization that I am running from something, likely myself, and that I won’t stop running until I feel like I’ve done whatever it is I need to in order to sleep again. No matter what anyone else has to say about it, I know I have to keep packing my bags and searching for whatever it is out there that I need. Because it isn’t here in small town Missouri. It’s out there in that great wide world I love to explore. And since I’m such a big fan of experiencing life instead of just living day-to-day life, it all seems to work out just fine.

So I’ll continue this line of thought another night this week, hopefully, before catching you up on everything else.